The conference over, Red Eagle wrapped himself in his blanket and lay down with his feet toward the fire. Again Henry felt an impulse of respect for him. He was true to his race and his inheritance, while the renegades were false in everything to theirs. He did not depart from the customs and thoughts bred into him by many generations, but the renegades violated every teaching of their own race that had brought civilization to the world, and he hated and despised them.
He saw Blackstaffe and Wyatt wrap themselves in their blankets and also lie down with their feet to the fire. All the Indians were at rest save two sentinels. Henry watched this strange scene a few minutes longer. The coals were dying fast and now he saw but indistinctly the figures of white men and red men, joined in a compact to destroy his people utterly, from the oldest man and woman to the youngest child.
Henry did not know it, but he was as much a knight of chivalry and romance as any mailed figure that ever rode with glittering lance. Beneath the buckskin hunting shirt beat a heart as dauntless as that of Amadis of Gaul or Palmerin of England, although there were no bards in the great forest to sing of his deeds and of the deeds of those like him.
He intended to stay only two or three minutes longer, but he lingered nevertheless. The Indian campfire gave forth hardly a glimmer. The figures save those of the sentinels became invisible. The wind blew gently and sang among the leaves, as if the forest were always a forest of peace, although from time immemorial, throughout the world, it had been stained by bloodshed. But the forest spell which came over him at times was upon him now. The rippling of the leaves under the wind he translated into words, and once more they sang to him the song of success.
This new task of his, straight through the heart of danger, had been achieved, and in his modesty, which was a modesty of thought as well as word, he did not ascribe it to any strength or skill in himself, but to the fact that a Supreme Being had chosen him for a time as an instrument, and was working through him. Like nearly all who live in the forest and spend most of their lives in the presence of nature, he invariably felt the power of invisible forces, directed by an omniscient and omnipotent mind, which the Indian has crystallized into the name Manitou, the same as God to Henry.
For that reason this forest spell was also the spirit of thankfulness. He had been guided and directed so far, and he felt that the guidance and direction would continue. All the omens and prophecies remained good, and, with the wind in the leaves still singing the song of victory in his ears, he silently crept away, inch by inch, even as he had come. Well beyond the Indian ear, he rose and returned swiftly to his comrades.
Ross was still on guard and the others sleeping when Henry's figure appeared through the dusk, but they awoke and sat up when he called, low, to them.
"What are you wakin' us up fur, Henry?" asked the shiftless one, as he rubbed a sleepy eye. "Are the warriors comin'? Ef so, I'd like to put on my silk knee breeches, an' my bee-yu-ti-ful new silk stockin's an' my new shoes with the big silver buckles, afore I run through the forest fur my life."
"No, they're not coming, Sol," said Henry. "They're asleep off there and tomorrow morning Blackstaffe, Braxton Wyatt, Red Eagle and the others hurry on to join the main band."
"How do you know that, Henry?"